


The Start of It - Or Maybe the Middle

by Theeniebean



Series: Bootstrap Paradox [1]
Category: Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theeniebean/pseuds/Theeniebean
Summary: Gene breaks a promise.





	The Start of It - Or Maybe the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> So I've got this whole timey wimey story that I've been hashing out, and what sort of timey wimey Sam Tyler story is complete without old man Gene sticking his nose in? This is intended as a prologue, but it can stand anywhere in the series itself.

I've never been a religious man. Might've been, when I was too young to know better, but that went out the front door along with whatever childhood my old man managed to wrangle out of me and Stu. I don't regret it none, it don't bring me some cold shame that I'm not looking to some higher power to fix things. Way I see it, it made the decades of unrelenting insight into the true nature'a man easier to swallow. 

Still, as I grip the binoculars to my face and feel the promise I'm breaking in the pit of my stomach as I watch the man plummet to the cement below, I can't help but wonder what the divine intent of this whole fiasco was, makin' my Sam go through that. Mind you, I'm not knockin' it - without the quirky little trick of his, we'd never've met. We wouldn't've had all those years together. 

Mind you, it doesn't mean I take any pleasure in watchin' him slam himself back in time by becoming jam on the pavement. Even less when I know that the Sam waiting for me at home made me promise not to watch. Daft old man - says me, older 'n him, but still. He's got to know that I'd need to be there for him, even if I ain't there for him. Just my luck that the day he picked to do this is the day I go down the bookie every week. Didn't even have to slink off out the door with some flimsy excuse. 

He says he doesn't remember the impact, but he flinches whenever he walks by the station. Says he don't know where he landed, but I see his eyes stick on that one slab of concrete all the same. I'm not sure when I started buying into all of his malarkey about time and space, the future n' the past, but it was a long time ago now. I buy into it, I've played into it, I've been hurt by it, been given the best love a man could ask for because of it. Whatever trick of the universe that brought Sam Tyler into my life is one that I'd trade my own for, any day. 

Just - the thought of him taking that final step, even as we encouraged him, even as we told him it was worth it. The inevitable, disgusting, stomach churning mayhem as he slammed into the concrete, urged on by my own words, my own stories of what it was, what was ahead of him. How much I loved him for coming back to me. I may as well've pushed him off that roof meself. 

Tossing the binoculars on the passenger seat, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands, I listen to the sirens blazing their way down the streets toward him - what's left of him. Some sick part of me wants to go see, just to confirm what Sam's told me to be true for years, but even my stomach wouldn't be able to take it. Not him. Not like that.

The mobile in the cup holder twangs itself to life, rattling against the plastic. He's always gone on about the latest tech - he's the oldest one in line getting hard for Apples or Berries or what-have-you - but I'm fine with my indestructible little Nokia. Gets the job done. Has Snake. Without opening my eyes, I snatch it up, pushing the green button from memory. The sirens have died, but Sam's alive against my ear. It's quiet for a moment, though it hangs for longer than he did in the air just now. My throat is dry. 

We talk, quietly. Softly. He knows I went. I know he wanted me to. He says he doesn't regret it, and nor do I. We know the aftermath - but this, now, this is uncharted territory. His true future, the great unknown, he says. Liberating, to not know every major turn of the globe. Terrifying. "Means I can make an honest wager against you in the League now." I hear the smile in his voice, see the panic in his eyes even though he's two miles away. The line goes quiet. There's only one thing for it. I twist the key in the ignition. 

"Pub?"

"Pub."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Paradox of Choice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881196) by [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana)




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